The Bartel Chronicles
by Sir Zesto
Summary: Screaver Bartel has been missing from the world for nearly a decade. Rumors surrounding his disappearance were whispered amongst gossipers and discussed online before fading into obscurity. However, this story is not over. It continues on through another Bartel, one blessed with far greater power and purpose...These are the Bartel Chronicles. SI-OC
1. Prologue

**A/N: Well...this is different. I will discuss my reasoning at the end of the chapter. However, go read Tale of an OP Delinquent first to set the stage for the next few chapters. And without further ado...**

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 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except the things I have made. If it isn't obvious, then ask. I wish I owned One Piece, though...;-;**

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 **Prologue**

 **A Life Turned Upside Down**

Waking up was always a pain. You know how, whenever you wake up from a nap, you are always more tired than when you laid down? Well, this time was no different. What made it even worse was the sounds of the bustling city that assaulted my ears as I cracked open my weary eyes. My limp hand flopped around in search of my phone before latching onto the smooth device. I yanked it towards my face, not even flinching when the light shone into my drooping eyes.

 _7:53 PM_

With a groan, I sat up on the sofa before beginning to work out the kinks in my body. My legs swung over the seat, dragging the throw blanket with it to expose my bare, muscled torso. One final heave later and I was on my feet, my sock-clad feet keeping my sensitive soles from touching the freezing cold floor. I quickly redressed, pulling on my leather-guarded boots and a white tank top. Next to the clock, there rested a red scarf that I snugly wrapped around my neck before tucking it into the back. I glanced around the warehouse, noting that everyone was starting to file in. If one was to note all the different ethnicities and lifestyles, they would be shocked. We had white McDonald's cashiers, affluent Hispanic kids, and black business clerks. All in all, we made up the Shinigami's Warriors, one of the top gangs in Los Angeles. We all had banded together for survival, bred from necessity instead of choice. We were a band of brothers that came from similar backgrounds, not a group of savages that hang out to kill or rape.

"You all know what tonight is, so I won't get into it," I announced, everyone's grim faces locked on mine. I brushed my mohawk with my hand, taking comfort from the familiar texture of red hair spray that coated the top. "Bring your weapons. Tetsu blew us up on Insta and attacked one of our own in a neutral zone. No one has sided with either of us, which was a happy surprise for us and a death sentence for Tetsu." My eyes shifted over to a seething teen with wild blond dreads that was gripping a wicked-looking blade tightly. "Bane, you had first shots at the second lieutenant. If anyone tries to help without consent, let me know." The boy nodded curtly before stalking off to prepare. I turned next to a trio of Hispanics. "Ricardo, Tomas, and Juan…you guys have the comms, alright? Warn us of any people coming in so the border team can deal with them. If you have to bolt, set off the signal." All three nodded before turning to a nearby table full of complicated equipment and wires. With the special assignments out of the way, I turned to the remainder of the group. My first lieutenant stepped forward, his tanned face hidden beneath a scraggly full beard.

"The border patrol has been drilled and knows the streets inside and out, Bartel," affirmed the man, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. To this day, I never understood why he chose to follow my command when he could have, at the time, easily dethroned me. And yet, that is how a half-white, half-Mexican mutt like me got to be best friends with a big man like Damien. He grinned down at me, his muscles popping with each breath. "Don't worry, Dellingr. We have got it taken care of. You just focus on putting those scrubs in their place." I nodded in understanding, slapping him on the bicep before turning back to the sofa I had been resting on. I smirked at the slight figure that had appeared there, a saucy grin on their face. They sauntered forward until their face was tilted up toward my own.

"Well, well, Death Rider," she crooned, throwing her arms around my neck. Her vivid green eyes glistened with hidden concern as she searched my brown ones for any hint of hesitation she could capitalize on. "Looks like the operation is a go, huh?" I nodded, expecting the responding sigh that followed. Deciding to nip this in the bud, I lifted the girl bridal-style, getting a quiet gasp of excited shock as I returned to the sofa where I had been resting, plopping down with her on my lap. She flushed as she leaned into me, her hand tracing the tattoo on my chest. It was a stupid decision, but one that catapulted me to instant fame as a young gang member before I took over the Shinigami's Warriors. A stylized black devil head with stark white horns peeked out over my tank top as if watching the proceedings with curious interest.

"I know you want me to stay, Deb, but I have to protect my own," I muttered, resting my chin on the top of her head. I began to stroke her thick blond locks, making her snuggle closer. "We are a family here, one that understands everyone within it. Therefore, when someone not only demeans us, but breaks unspoken rules doing it, this is the result." I felt her nod in my chest before she shifted so she was looking out at the preparing men and women. She had come from a life that was just as difficult as mine. We had met in our orphanage when we were kids but quickly lost contact as I continued to bounce between foster parents. When I finally left the system and dropped out of school, I went to find her and pulled her out of an abusive home. Together, we had joined the Warriors, only to take over when the leadership began to change the vision of the group. After my dethroning of the previous captain, I established myself and Deb as leaders. We quickly kicked out the rebels and changed the dynamic to that of a surviving family instead of a rowdy neighborhood hangout. We had a purpose now when we had never been given one before. Now, here we were. The two of us had grown close ever since and had been seriously dating for a couple of years now. Everyone knew we wanted to get married, but money was still scarce among even the most prestigious gangs.

"You know, babe, you could just let it go with a strict warning," she offered, leaning back to look me in the eye. "A couple of beatings, maybe a turf infraction as well. But a full-out battle? Are they all ready? You have trained them, but some of the newbies are still fresh." I hummed in thought before shrugging as I turned her around so she was facing me, her arms on my shoulders.

"As I said before, this is the result. When someone hurts my family, I need to make it known that it is not acceptable," I restated before slowly rising to my feet, smiling softly at the giggle that escaped Deb's mouth. I set her down, tilting her chin up to look at me. "I will come back. Keep my seat warm, m'kay?" Without waiting for a response, I strode over to a nearby coat hanger that held three items. I quickly donned the first one: a black leather jacket with a flaming scythe on the back with the words "Death Rider" in Japanese kanji. The second item was a thick steel chain that had the third item, a heavy combat knife, wedged between its links. I yanked the knife out, quickly glancing it over to ensure its quality before stashing it in one of my inner coat pockets. I then wound the chain around my right forearm, flexing to test my flexibility before nodding in satisfaction. I turned Deb for a final time, sending a small wave which she returned vigorously.

"We are ready, captain," came Damien's deep voice, somberness embedded in his tone. I nodded, eyes still fixed on the fidgety form of my girlfriend. I fingered the item in my pocket that had rested there for over a month. _'Now's not the time. I can do it when I return.'_ With that final thought banished, I turned on my heel to march through the troops into a nearby garage that housed a fleet of various motorcycles. I strode to the front, smiling at the bike that sat before me—my bike. The dark red Yamaha YZF-R3 glistened in the dying LEDs, fresh out of the shop with a black flame pain job near the rear and a white skull wreathed in black flames on the front. It was my baby, refurbished monthly with the newest updates to make sure she could hold her own against the big, bad new boys on the block. I fished around in my pocket for the key as I swung myself into the saddle. After finally locating the strip of metal, I revved up the engine, sighing at the beautiful sound as several dozen more like it quickly roared to life behind me. With a final glance back, I accepted my jet-black helmet from the nearby mechanic before knocking away the kickstand and shooting off into the twilight, my mind set and heart stony as I prepared for the coming confrontation.

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I grunted in exertion as I knocked down the last of the attack force, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. We had been duped. The gangs had united and brought their full weight on us. Everyone except for myself, Damien, and Bane had been swept away by either kamikaze bikers, automatic gunfire, or the masses of goons that had previously propagated the abandoned warehouse district. The three of us glared at the several dozen smug goons that were still standing. I wiped my knife off on one of their buddies' bodies, quickly changing their attitude.

"You all…have rightly _pissed me off_ ," I growled, red starting to tint my vision as the anger finally broke through the adrenaline of the fight. I brought my chain up, latching the knife onto it firmly and giving it some experimental twirls. I shrugged off my battered jacket, tossing it to the side. "You invade _my_ territory, put down _my_ brother, and then decide to declare on _me_? You've got some balls on you, I will give you that." I tied the chain around my waist as my two remaining companions sheathed their own weapons. Damien began to shuffle back and forth, hands raised on either side of his head. Bane dropped into a _ginga_ stance and began to move fluidly from side-to-side. I raised my fists in front of my face, palms turned outward. "But you can't defeat the Demonic Trio. Skull, Spirit…and Reaper." With that, the two men on either side of me moved. Bane sprung into action, bounding into the left portion of the gang members. He soared over their heads and ducked under their blows as he unleashed havoc on them, leaving them in a state of either near-death or permanent disability. Damien's fists were indistinguishable as they hurtled into men's faces, guts, and chins. Ever so often, his leg would lash out and send someone flying out of the group with a sickening crack.

Within two minutes, only two dozen men were left standing, comprising the leadership of the combined forces. I cracked my neck as I slowly shuffled forward in my stance, reveling in the adrenaline that was beginning to overtake my system. One of the goons roared in rage and whipped out a handgun, leveling it at _where I used to be_. Having anticipated his movement, I darted into his guard and kneed him in the chest, sending him airborne and ending his life. This galvanized the leaders into action, except for three hooded ones that stood back. It was pure carnage. They weren't even a challenge as I smacked them around, sending them into alleyways, buildings, and trash bins aimlessly with my flurry of fists and feet. Once they were all subdued, I slowly stood to my full height with my eyes locked on the final three.

"Your reputation precedes you, Reaper," applauded the center man as he threw back his hoodie, prompting the other two to follow suit. His wild blue hair seemed to float above his head in a puffy afro that defied any sense of gravity. His yellowed smile parted as he let loose a raspy chuckle. "But, there is something that needs to be addressed." He nodded to the man to his left–a bald teen with tattoos covering every visible inch of his body in tantalizing patterns. The youth grinned widely, revealing a set of shockingly white teeth. He whipped out a smartphone and quickly typed in a text before replacing the phone in the pocket of his cargo pants.

"She is already here," he announced in a smooth voice. Wait a minute…she?! Everything suddenly clicked. I whipped around to face my two friends, only to find Deb with a gun to each of their heads. A deadly smirk marred her gorgeous face as she leered at me tauntingly.

"Hey… _babe_ ," she spat before pulling the triggers. I could only watch in horrified shock as my two loyalists fell to the ground among their foes and friends, content smiles on their faces. My eyes remained riveted on their unmoving forms as my brain tried to process what just occurred. I couldn't understand it. _'Deb and I have been together since we were kids…why would she do this?! What's going on?!'_ I heard the click of her heeled boots as she slowly stalked towards me. Smugness was practically rolling off of her as she jammed her gun into my jaw, tilting my head up to meet her gleeful eyes. "Aww…is the big, bad Reaper sad? Confused? Well, good." She jabbed her heels into each of my knees, causing me to crumple to the ground in a kneeling position. Her gun was now pointed at my temple, hand steady as she knelt down to whisper in my ear. "You thought that I would be loyal to a sap like you? We were supposed to be the best…and you threw it away for a family?! No way, José." She stood back up as she continued to talk, but everything was blocked out by the ringing in my ears. Ice filled my veins and my feelings froze over. _'So…this is what family is like…I hate it so much. The pain, the betrayal, the loss. It's too much for me to handle. Especially when the most precious person in my life…no, she isn't that anymore. Which means…'_ Determination filled my gut as I finally lifted my head.

"Well, it seems I finally get to put the Devil's Clause into play…huh, Deb?" I stated casually, my sharp gaze causing her eyes to shoot open and her grip to loosen. I slowly stood up, ignoring the two men rushing me. "I, Dellingr Bartel, Reaper of Shinigami's Warriors, hereby disown and sentence you, Debora Johnson…" The wind whistled around me as four knives sped towards my body. I smirked as my chain unraveled with a simple flex of my arms. I snatched the end and swung it in a wide circle, slashing through all three of them in an instant. "…is damnation." I gazed down at the shocked gaze on her face as the gun clattered to the ground as he hands went to her gut, trying to hold in the guts that threatened to spill everywhere. I turned on my heel, ignoring the corpses of the two goons next to me. My gaze fell upon the remaining man, his gaze angry and jaw grinding. He reached behind me, unsheathing a wicked-looking scimitar. With a final war cry, we rushed at each other.

We traded blows for what seemed to be days but was only minutes. My chain lashed at him constantly but was always deflected by his blade. Whenever he stabbed, I would dance around it or catch it in the links of my improvised nunchaku. Finally, we broke apart, small cuts littering both of our bodies from glancing blows. _'This is it. The final strikes!'_ He engaged first, spinning on his heel with his blade extended. Quickly detaching my knife from the chain, I swung the metal whip outwards, wrapping it around the blade. With his weapon trapped, I pulled the Tetsu leader in with a grunt, jabbing upwards as I did so, our faces mere centimeters from each other. His eyes bugged out of his head as he let off a death rattle before going limp.

The fight had lasted no more than an hour, going by very quickly from the moment we got the first message that forces had been converging on us from all sides. I gripped my side where the leader's blade had stabbed in, piercing my ribcage. I gently pulled it out, grimacing at the pain. Thankfully, it wasn't fatal and hadn't punctured a lung. However, the amount of blood I was losing left me with about twenty minutes maximum. I hobbled over to a bin and collapsed against it, tears cascading down my bloodied and dirtied face. I mechanically wrapped the chain around my torso and jammed my knife into my belt. My hand latched onto my jacket and threw it over my weary body like a makeshift blanket. With that final piece in place, I allowed my sobs to break free, filling the graveyard with my broken sounds of pain and sorrow as I mourned the loss of my family and friends.

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 _Ginga_ : the standard capoeira stance (look it up to better understand what it looks like)

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 **So, this story is very different. Still OC-centric, but it's a different Bartel. I decided to make a spiritual successor to the original work as opposed to a rewrite because of two things. First, I went too fast. My workmanship was shoddy since it was my first foray into storytelling and reworking it seemed to be pointless. I am happy with the reception, but I tried to do too much too fast (as reviewer** **P34644563 pointed out with the jutsu).**

 **Second, I completely changed Screaver's dynamic. He was a very different character than the original one because I didn't feel comfortable writing his dialogue. I wasn't doing a rewrite as much as a reworking of ToaOPD. This led me to consider how I could still use the story, but shift it away from the original work...which led to this.**

 **The first two or three chapters will be a lead-up and a preliminary explanation of what is going on. While Screaver is a center-point of the story, he has very little actual "screen-time." However, he will be showing up. If anyone wants to draw him up from the descriptions given in ToaOPD, that would be awesome. Also, if you want to draw Dellingr, I have art that I made with a very basic program that I would love to be developed. Just contact me through the review page or by email (check my profile). Welp, that's it, kiddies. See y'all next time, and until then...**

 **Keep it Zesty.**

 **~Sir Zesto**


	2. A Whole New World

**A/N: I am alive. My collarbone is basically healed. What happened is it actually snapped off from my shoulder and farther up the bone. I had a three-inch gap in my clavicle because it also broke near my neck and the floating chunk of bone moved _up_ into my neck area, creating a bump. I could have gotten surgery, but I didn't want a plate screwed into my shoulder for the rest of my days, so I let it heal naturally. I have full range-of-motion back but haven't finished PT to get the strength back.**

 **Let's get right back into it with...review time!**

 **Drago pirate: I don't want to give a bio yet. I may give a quick bio at the end of the next chapter, but I want to avoid accidentally giving away potential information.**

 **Wartimecam: Essentially, I felt like I was doing a new story with an altered character instead of keeping him the same as you would in a rewrite. I changed everything about his powers and character. But, if you guys would like the original story, feel free to PM me and I can give them to you through DocX.  
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 **Disclaimer: I only own the OC. Nothing else. If I did own One Piece...we would have a lot more to go (I need my Mizu Mizu no Mi/Water-Water Fruit!).**

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 **Chapter 1**

 **A Whole New World**

Dellingr flew out of bed, grunting in pain. He remembered blacking out after the fight, but that was in an abandoned LA district. Now, he was lying on a soft mattress in a small wooden building. His hands trailed down his torso, feeling the multiple bruises and the single stab wound on his right side. Thin bandages blocked his skin from touching them, but he could tell where they were. He slowly rose to his feet from the bed, wincing with every step. Thankfully, he had dealt with worse than this. Now, he just needed to get back to base and pack up his outfit's gear before starting from the beginning.

"What a mess I've gotten myself," Dellingr muttered, looking around for his gear. His jacket was hanging on one of the bedposts along with his scarf, but his chain, knife, and shirt were nowhere to be seen. With a longsuffering sigh, the man hobbled to the door, grabbing his boots before he exited the house. With his first step, Dellingr knew something was wrong. For one thing, the world was quiet. There were no blaring car horns, no wailing police sirens, no sobbing babies. All one could hear was the crashing of the waves and cawing of seagulls. And second, there was no smog or towering office buildings on the horizon. All he could see were mossy mountains and an endless ocean. He hastily strapped his boots on before running down the cobbled streets towards what seemed to be a dock. When he reached the edge, he dropped to his knees. "What…where…how…who did this?" His breathy whisper was lost to the wind as he stared out at the horizon, uncomprehending of what he was seeing. A particularly loud gull cry caught his attention, causing him to glance up. A bound stack of papers smacked him in the face, obscuring his vision. He pushed them aside, letting him see the odd beast before him. It wore a black-rimmed newsboy cap and a coat with the words "News Coo" printed across the front, a word on each side of the lapel.

"Ah! Our guest is up!" came a surprised voice from behind him. Dellingr leaped to his feet, turning around to lock eyes with the speaker. His eyes bugged out of his head for two reasons. First off, it was a stunning young woman. She had pale blue hair pulled back into a ponytail, sharp brown eyes, and accentuated facial features. The second reason was that Dellingr recognized her. She was Nefertari Vivi, Crown Princess of Alabasta Kingdom on the Paradise side of the Grand Line. How did he know this, and where were all these unfamiliar places? They were part of a fictional world created by a small Asian man named Oda…and he seemed to be in this "fictional" world. Of course, the woman took Dellingr's shock as a reaction to her appearance, causing her to blush lightly before she smirked saucily. "Hey, big man! I get that I'm beautiful but stop catching flies and come with me." The former gang member clacked his jaw shut, causing the woman to giggle lightly before she walked away, high heels clicking down the street.

"This has to be a dream," muttered Dellingr, roughly rubbing his eyes in exasperation. He glanced down at the papers, noting that they were bounty posters of several pirates, including some he recognized from the manga and anime. "Definitely a dream." With that firmly placed in his mind, the big man strode off after Vivi, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Several people waved cheerily at him as he passed by, and he returned the gesture. Of course, he knew these people would try to kill him in mere moments if he was a pirate, but that was neither here nor there since none of it was real. He finally caught up with Vivi as she walked into the largest building in the town. "TOWN HALL" was painted in large red letters over the doorway, but Dellingr didn't think about it too much as he followed his guide inside. She suddenly stopped with a quick "Oh!" before turning to him with a smirk.

"The name's Ms. Wednesday by the way," she informed, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you are in Cactus Island's Whisky Peak, home to a thriving, pirate-loving community known for its excellent liquor." Dellingr grunted in response as he surveyed the building's interior with a keen eye. He had easily spotted several hidden guards behind banners and various other hiding spots. _'This is going to be interesting to be sure.'_ Several sets of footsteps drew his attention to a small group of smiling people approaching him and Ms. Wednesday, three standing out. There was an orange-haired man with the number 9 tattooed under both eyes and a large crown sitting atop his head. Another was a tall, broad-shouldered nun with a serious expression on her face. And lastly, the man who was obviously the mayor was a tall, curly-haired gentleman wearing extravagant clothing.

"Welcome, my good sir!" he greeted, throwing his arms out wide. "I am so pleased that– ahem, ma, MAAAA!" Dellingr raised an eyebrow at the odd quirk before the man continued. "I am Mr. 8, the mayor of our little town. To my left is Sister Monday, head of the sisters here, and to my right, Mr. 9. He is part of our fishing team with Ms. Wednesday. They were the two who found you floating in the sea with open wounds." Dellingr hummed, nodding to each in appreciation, his gaze lingering slightly on Wednesday, causing here to smirk sultrily at him. He returned his gaze to the mayor as he continued speaking. "You may stay as long as you need to. We just ask that– AHEM! Ma, MAAA! We only require that you integrate yourself into the community by assisting in whatever area you wish." Dellingr nodded before his eyes darted to Mr. 9's hip where his knife was still attached to his chain. The man snapped his fingers before holding them out for Dellingr to take.

"Sorry! I forgot that I still had those!" he said in a squeaky voice, cackling madly. "You must be some kind of warrior to be proficient at such weapons!" Dellingr ripped off his bandages, noting that his stab wound was already healed and had scarred over. He expertly wound the chain around his waist, being gently to avoid aggravating the still-healing bruises. "You were out for three days, so your injuries are almost completely gone." The otherworlder hummed in understanding before he stopped. The fact that time had passed here…this meant this wasn't a dream after all! The science of dreams had always fascinated Dellingr, even during his childhood. The biggest discovery for him was that you could never read a clock or notice time passing in a dream. It stayed the same. _'Then…I'm in some kind of an alternate reality, whether it's virtual or I actually fell into another dimension. Boy, that sounds weird…'_ Breaking off his mental rant, he unclipped the knife before speaking.

"Thank you," he began, wincing at his gravelly voice. "My name is Dellingr…Bartel Dellingr. And I have a question for you…bounty hunters." The room sprang into action. Men and women leaped from their hiding spots, their various weapons leveled at the newcomer. The two younger executives stared at me in horror while the nun and mayor adopted fighting stances. Dellingr scoffed before continuing. "Please! It was so obvious. A pirate-loving town with goons hiding all over the place? You may want to consider making it _slightly_ less obvious." The group slowly dropped their defenses as they realized the man had no intention of attacking them. Dellingr began to walk around, slowly critiquing the form of all the hunters. When he came to Mr. 8, the larger man clasped Dellingr's shoulder firmly to hold him in place.

"You seem to have a lot of experience in fighting, Mr. Bartel," he noted, getting a nod in response. The man smiled widely. "Maybe you would like to organize us then? We would still run the majority of the town, but you would be more like a general. You, as an outsider, can ensure that we are what we say to be." Dellingr hummed in thought but was interrupted by two men bursting into the room.

"Mr. 8! There's a pirate ship near the dock that is ordering us to surrender," one announced, the other panting heavily. Dellingr raised an eyebrow at the news, walking off while the man was still explaining. He unraveled his chain from his waist, attaching his knife to it casually as he began spinning it slowly. Then, with no warning, he broke into a run. Now, what shocked him was his speed. He had previously been able to run a mile in about four-and-a-half minutes at full speed. Now, he was zipping through the streets at insane speeds. His muscles did not protest against the increased strain, which Dellingr filed away as he took care not to lop anyone's head off as he neared the dock. The pirate ship resembled a log raft but had several cannons wedged in the middle of the logs. Dellingr ground to a halt as his now wide eyes landed on the Jolly Roger: three skulls facing left, front, and right laid over three pairs of crossbones.

"Blackbeard," he whispered in slight fear. This was not what he had been expecting. He tore his gaze from the flag and pinned it on the three figures that had boarded a small raft and were making their way to the island. As they gained speed, Dellingr's eye caught a brief flash from the craft. He spun to the left as the crack of a shot resounded through the town, the acrid smell of gunpowder wafting up from where he stood mere moments before. He ducked behind a barrel and yelled towards the town, "Get out!" Everyone watching quickly retreated towards the town hall, except for a single messenger who Dellingr grabbed. "Tell Mr. 8 to grab as many of the valuables and important items as he can and make for the mountains. I will hold them off." The messenger, pressing a small bag and pistol into Dellingr's hands before speeding off. The mohawk-sporting youth sighed harshly before checking the pistol over. It a .44 caliber revolver with six chambers, each filled. He quickly checked the bag, which had several boxes of bullets and a maintenance kit.

"Ahoy!" shouted a loud voice as the ship drew closer. Dellingr drew a deep breath before he slowly rose to his feet, turning to face the odd trio that had arrived. One was a massive brute of a man, his curly violet hair flowing from a dark brown mask with orange markings. The second was a sickly-looking man with dirty blond hair falling out of a beaten black hat. He was leaning against the third figure, a weak, hobbling horse whose eyes were hidden by a stringy white mane. What intimidated Dellingr was the fact they all were almost twice his height if the ill man stood up to his full height. "Good afternoon!" The greeting came from the large, masked man, who was grinning broadly at their greeter. "We are the Blackbeard Pirates and have come to raid this town. Thankfully, my captain is in a good mood. He will not be coming to destroy this dirt patch." The grin turned menacing as the brute began to crack his knuckled ominously. "Instead, that honor is left up to me and my companion." Dellingr raised his brow, slowly beginning to spin his makeshift kusarigama.

"Tell me, pirate," he began, walking forward. The two men had their glinting eyes fixed on the rotating chain that was picking up speed. "I am a guest in this town, and they have saved me from certain death at the hands of the sea. For that, I owe them my protection if nothing else." The smaller man lashed his leg out, catching the larger man by surprise and depositing him into the sea. The horse leaped at him, its owner leaping on and revealing a massive double-bladed scythe he had kept wrapped on his back in brown cloth. He lashed out at Dellingr, who leaped over it. After sticking the landing, he leveled the pistol at the attacking duo firing off three shots that hit the horse. It whinnied in distress before collapsing to the ground in pain. The sick man whipped around, fury evident in his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that, lad," he warned, rising to his full height, all signs of sickness gone. He was nearly twice Dellingr's height and began spinning the scythe expertly. "You should have left for the hills with all your friends. Now, you die alone." He lashed out, trying to his opponent across the chest. The otherworlder evaded, swinging his bladed chain at the man. He grunted as it nicked his leg but continued a deadly dance with his massive weapon. It took everything Dellingr had to continue dodging. What made it even worse was that his eyes had begun to throb, distracting him slightly. His distraction cost him as he felt his foot hit the edge of the dock. The pirate cried in triumph, lunging at the surprised man. "Say hi to old Davy for me!" Dellingr grinned as he shot into the air, barely cresting the man's tall frame before he lashed out with both feet, knocking the man into the water.

"Never underestimate your opponent," chided the young man as he tossed his jacket into a nearby building, exposing his bare chest to the wind as the water began bubbling. He narrowed his eyes before bounding backward, dodging the attacking fist with plenty of time to spare. Hearing the clopping of hooves behind him, he fired three more shots behind him, getting a whinny of frustration in response. He turned to face the angered horse, who brayed at him tauntingly. He shrugged before hurling the empty gun at the equine's head, knocking it unconscious. He whipped around, catching the masked man's meaty fist with crossed forearms.

"You have some skill, kid," growled the enraged man, all signs of mirth absent from his face. He wielded a combat dagger in his other hand, lashing out viciously in a failed attempt to gut Dellingr as he used the pirate's hand as leverage to launch himself onto a nearby roof. "I guess it's only proper you get our names. I'm Jesus Burgess, first mate to Captain Teach. The man you tossed in the water was Doc Q and that's his horse, Stronger." Dellingr hummed in recognition before unclipping his knife, dropping his chain into a box that lay on the roof. He adopted a fighting stance before dipping his head in greeting.

"Bartel Dellingr," he introduced curtly, launching himself at the man. "Now, I will say this one time. Get off this island. They have nothing of interest and can barely get by. I already checked." Burgess quirked his head in confusion before chuckling, which quickly turned into full-blown cackling, halting his opponent's assault. He tapered off into maniacal giggles, occasionally wiping tears from his eyes.

"Oh, that was good!" he applauded, pointing at Dellingr. "You think…that we came here just for the loot? You fool!" His feral grin was back in place as he leered at the town's protector. "The Blackbeard Pirates pillage because it gives credence to mayhem and destruction! We could get loot so much easier than raiding run-down towns like this one." Dellingr's eyes widened at the revelation, causing him to tighten his grip on his knife. "Captain Teach wants only to spread fear of his name! In fact, it seems he has grown tiresome of the hold-up, so just let me kill you before he arrives." He lunged forward with incredible speed, catching his mohawked opponent by surprise. Dellingr flew through one of the buildings, causing it to collapse over him. "See? None can stand up to our might!" Burgess rushed forward, intent on finishing the job. He brought his forearm up to his face, elbow sticking out. He sped forward, arm unmoving. Dellingr lifted himself from the rubble, his body aching in pain from the hit. "Prepare for your demise! Whirling Dervish!" Burgess took a final lunging step before he began spinning like a drill, his elbow now over his head to complete the mimicry of the tool. However, this all went unnoticed by his target. Dellingr's eyes remained closed as the pain in them increased tenfold, causing him to drop to his knees.

"ARGH!" roared the bare-chested fighter. His eyes snapped down to Burgess and everything seemed to stop. To the giant man, nothing seemed different. He was spinning so fast he could only focus on the vague form of his opponent. In Dellingr's eyes, the world had slowed to a crawl. He understood everything about the technique. Not only that, but he saw how to incorporate it into his own style. Suddenly, the world returned to normal speed as he threw himself out of the way, hopping to his feet. He pulled out his chain as Burgess regained his bearings, slowly spinning it in a circle. Then, he began to spin the opposite way to create an odd tornado that was still unnoticed by his opponent. "Never underestimate an enemy's ingenuity! Whipping Dervish!" The shouted name refocused Burgess, causing his eyes to widen at the storm of chain and fist that met him with intense ferocity. He felt the cold steel links pounding his head and shoulders while a fist continually slammed into his solar plexus. He soon took flight, launched towards the dock and the second boat that had docked there. He was snatched from his air route by a large, hairy hand that gently laid him on the wooden platform.

"Captain…Teach…" muttered the long-haired man, a weak smile coming to his face. "You came." The frowning face of his captain stared down at him in worried confusion. Blackbeard was a disgusting man with a rounded build. It looked like someone had taken a snowman, tanned it, put hair all over it, and carved out only a few teeth. Surprisingly, although the captain was significantly shorter than either of his crewmates, Dellingr could tell he was far more dangerous. He dropped to a knee, feeling tired all of a sudden. He made eye contact with Blackbeard, noting the distinct lack of the namesake. He scoffed, pointing at the glaring man's scraggly stubble.

"Where's the beard, Teach?" he queried, chuckling at his sad little joke. The larger man huffed in amusement, raising his arm with a toothy smile. Shadows converged around it as Dellingr launched towards the massive beast. He slammed into the pirate captain's outstretched arm, knocking the breath from his lungs. _'He's so strong! I can't even hope to fight him at this stage. I can take on Burgess easily enough, but Teach…'_ A hum of interest caught Dellingr's attention as a second sweaty palm roughly grabbed his chin, jerking it up to stare into Dellingr's eyes. He threw his head back, guffawing loudly.

"Zehahaha!" he roared heartily, his gaze returning to Dellingr's. "What an interesting person we have discovered! Did you eat a Devil Fruit?" His query went unanswered as his captive stared at him blankly. "Wait, that makes no sense. It would have been nullified by Black Vortex. So, if it isn't a fruit, and you don't seem to understand this power from how you fought in your altercation with Burgess…are you just discovering this power?" Blackbeard held the man over the water, allowing him to see his reflection in the lapping waves. Instead of his basic brown orbs, the eyes were completely black with the iris replaced by a white four-pronged star. "How peculiar!" Dellingr was ripped from his amazed observation as he was hurled into a nearby stone wall, causing his to cough up equal amounts of spittle and blood. He slumped against the immovable barricade, a defiant glint in his eyes.

"You're a monster that gives even the worst of pirates a bad name," he accused, causing a vile grin to split the man's weathered face. "If you are on a journey to take Roger's place, give up. You are nothing like him, and never will be, you utter bea—HNGH!" During the speech, Teach's face had contorted in rage as he pulled out a flintlock pistol and unloaded the contents into his foe's stomach. Dellingr collapsed face-first into the cobbled stone, his vision swimming from the pain. "This…won't stop…oof, me." His promise was accentuated by his slow ascent from the ground, rising to his full height with difficulty. He pinned the grimacing captain with a confident stare. "No matter what you wish, you will never be King of the Pirates. You give new meaning to the term black-hearted." With those final words, Dellingr sped off, ignoring the pain as he allowed adrenaline to override the stimuli as he tried to escape. He heard three more shots sound off, followed by an enraged roar and heavy footsteps. And so began the chase.

~0~

Teach hated running. While he was formidable in size, strength, and endurance, none of that translated well to his usable stamina. He had been dashing full tilt for almost an hour now and had lost sight of his quarry as he sped into the forest. While the pirate captain could have left him to bleed out and die to who knows what beasts that inhabited the woods, Teach was not a good loser. He gave a twisted grin as darkness began flowing out of him into the ground, swiftly flowing outwards to encompass his current obstacle. "Black Hole," he announced as the numerous, sturdy trees collapsed like toothpicks as they were sucked into the limitless abyss. However, there were no sounds or signs of Dellingr having been in the wood itself. Blackbeard turned from side to side rapidly, hoping to catch a glimpse of his prey. A falling rock attracted his attention to a nearby overlook where a hand disappeared from view. With a shout of triumph, the lumbering pirate hauled his frame to the top, only to again come up empty. "Where is he?!" Dellingr peeked out from his position underneath the slight outcrop Blackbeard was standing on, clinging to it as blood flowed from all over his body.

"Right here, big and ugly!" announced the injured man as he swung up behind Teach, lashing out with fists in a strong double punch to the man's back. The pirate captain roared in frustration as he plummeted towards the salty sea below. "Enjoy your swim!" mocked Dellingr with a satisfied smile as the blue expanse engulfed the behemoth, broken momentarily as Teach tried to fight his way to shore futilely. His job done, the content victor rolled down the hill into a small, cool ditch with a series of groans. "That was rough…if he hadn't been toying with me or interested in my eyes, I would have been a goner for sure. That's why you should…never…underestimate me…" His voice faded as he was embraced by the sweet arms of unconsciousness.

* * *

 **It was difficult to decide where to put him, but I decided to put him farther along because, believe it or not, this is not NamixOC. I will give anyone who can guess the pairing on their first try ten bucks. Seriously. I will let you know if you won privately before announcing it. And it will only go to the first person who guessed it, whether it is in the reviews or by PM.**

 **Alrighty...until next time...keep it zesty.**

 **~Sir Zesto**


	3. Story Time!

**A/N: And we're back! First off, I apologize if the last chapter felt rushed at all. Someone posted a review, and after going back and reading it, I was surprised at the absence of style in comparison to the first. I will be going back to rewrite it at some point, so thank you for that review, .**

 **Also, the first few chapters will be shorter just because of continuity purposes. Not a lot is happening at the moment because I am setting the stage for the true beginning of the story (if you haven't guessed what that is by this point, I am disappointed). So, don't worry. It will be picking up quickly because I will also be focusing on this story more than my others just because it was my first idea and I really want to get everything I have down onto paper, so to speak**

 **On with the show!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: It's fanfiction. Read the terms of use or whatever they are called. If I ain't making money, I can't be sued. -\'_'/-**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Story Time!**

"This is starting to get old," ground out Dellingr as his eyes continued to flit around the empty space surrounding him. "I need to stop blacking out. It feels like a trope at this point. Which would mean…" He turned around, finding a stark white door in the black void. "Knew it. Whenever there is a mindscape, there is a door. Whenever there is a door, there are either sealed memories or a sagely companion." With his theory stated, Dellingr swung open the door, revealing a cozy living room. His living room, to be exact. It had been almost 10 years since he had laid eyes on it, but it was burned into his memory forever. His gaze fixated upon the aged leather recliner that sat farthest from him, its beaten visage belying its frequent use. What caught his attention, however, was the figure that sat in it, grinning up at him mischievously.

"Ah, my benevolent host arrives!" proclaimed the stranger cheerily, throwing his arms wide in greeting. He seemed to be a high-class gentleman from his impeccable clothing, but his messy black hair said otherwise. A pure white cane was hooked on his wrist, innocently dangling like a Christmas ornament. He gestured to the equally beaten sofa. "Come, take a seat! I have so much to tell you. My name is Sumaisu." Dellingr halted his strides toward the sofa and whipped his head around. _'Well…not quite what I was thinking. Isn't he supposed to be dead?'_ The mysterious man's eyes narrowed into slits, his grin turning menacing. "You seem to know my true nature. That will make this all the more—Urk!" The man's eyes bulged in surprise and pain as the mind's owner removed his fist from the intruder's stomach.

"You are the one from the story," muttered an angered Dellingr. His furious eyes bore down on the wheezing man. "Screaver Bartel, my cousin…he fought against you with his spiritual guardian, Michael. I never thought it could be true, but today has helped me come to terms with a lot of things." He hefted the groaning man up with ease, cocking his fist back. "You brought him immense pain, dredging up memories that could have sent him spiraling into darkness." The fist landed again, connecting with Sumaisu's face with a satisfying crunch. Blood, spittle, and teeth spewed from the man's mouth. "And you did it for your own sick _amusement_. But Michael was supposed to have killed you. How are you here?" Dellingr dropped his punching bag unceremoniously, beginning a new string of agonized moans. After taking several seconds to collect his breath, the well-dressed figure lifted his angered gaze to meet his host's cold one.

"This…this isn't the same universe, or dimension, rather," clarified the spirit being, slowly rising to his feet. "In that dimension, I was dealt a fatal blow by Michael at the cost of his power. In fact, it was the catalyst for the finishing blow that was dealt to him, Screaver, and the rest of the Straw Hat Pirates later on down the road." A frown crossed his face, the anger leaving his glinting eyes as they shifted down. "Now, I have been banished to this version of Azul for my failure and am being hunted for treachery against my former commander." Dellingr shuddered as Sumaisu's unfocused vision returned to his face. "I was sealed away in your world along with my power, doomed to live as a superhuman. I went into hiding to avoid discrimination for my powers, traveling the world under several different names." He limped to the chair, motioning for Dellingr to sit. After a thoughtful moment, the young man complied, sinking into the familiar sofa cushions.

 _Fire. Fire everywhere as he leaped through the flames, his little brother's hand enclosed in his. His mother's screams to run were smothered by the falling beams and growing flames. His father roared in pain as a beam skewered his thigh as he protected his daughter. His eyes snapped up, resigned to his fate as his sons escaped the carnage. An explosion rocked the house, sending them flying into the darkness. Voices. Lights. Everything was—_

Dellingr growled at the memories, literally pushing them away and returning to the scene before him. Sumaisu sighed in sympathy, surprising the youth. "From what the story told me, you were an evil maniac who enjoyed psychologically tearing down his opponent," he observed, getting a scoff in response. The raven-haired man leaned back with a deep breath, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Betrayal can jade the most loyal man, cow the mightiest warrior, and even convert the vilest sinner," began Sumaisu, his lidded eyes tightening in remembrance. "A man I saw as both a brother and a leader cast me aside without a second thought. In retaliation, I used my powers to destroy him and his army. I was a trusted lieutenant, and anger fueled my reactions to this erroneous slight." His fists clenched, slamming into his seat's arms, digging into the loose covering. "Two survivors used the remainder of their power to send me to your world, sealing away the remaining vestiges of my power. They remained in the world your relative had inhabited, completing the work my former master had been pursuing. It cost them their lives, but they fractured the very infrastructure of the multi-verse." His lids flew open, his eyes now unending pits of shadow. His fists unclenched as energy formed around them into a complex structure, dots zipping around others in an intricate dance. "There are many dimensions that house unique worlds, but there are universes for each of these. For example, in one dimension, a god-like being nearly wiped out several of its universes. To put it simply, you have gone to the same dimension as Screaver, but not the same universe. In this one, everything is the same except for two major things." The energy dissipated and his eyes returned to normal as he sunk into the chair, looking significantly older than he had moments earlier.

"Obviously, the first one is that Screaver is not in it, correct?" deduced Dellingr, getting a weak nod in response. He scratched his chin, pondering the other differences. "I remember in the story that there were several beings from other worlds. In fact, there were even a couple near the end that shared Screaver's power with him. I assume they do not exist here?" He got a second nod, accompanied by a sigh. He sat up slowly, his face drawn tightly in a deep grimace.

"Nine powerful beings from different dimensions were summoned," Sumaisu explained. "There was fire turtle king, Bowser; the desert thief, Ganondorf; the space dragon, Ridley; the mechanical knight, Vader; the dark wizard, Voldemort; the skeletal warrior, Taskmaster; the cold prince, Frieza; the mad assassin, Hisoka; and finally, the immortal ninja, Madara. Combined with the might of my master, they laid waste to this world, leaving Screaver beaten with his crewmates and friends—including Michael—dead. He called upon his power to its fullest degree in his rage, wiping out all but my former leader and Madara, though he left them severely weakened. He was a mere husk of his former self and Madara imprisoned him in a separate dimension with the intent to one day return and discover his body's secrets." A vengeful grin replaced the grimace. "But that was when I made my move. My leader's troops were weak, including himself. It was the time to strike, and I did so swiftly. I gave everything I had before retreating to regain my power. The world was in shambles, and it was only myself and the two I told you about. They had been left behind due to other circumstances, and they quickly caught up to me in my weakened state. They sealed me away as I said, but they did not account for my chance encounter with the Sea Devil himself." Dellingr's eyes widened in horrified shock, eliciting a snort from Sumaisu.

"He had given me a chance to increase my power, but for a sole purpose," he continued, relishing in his listener's eagerness. "I had been able to harvest Madara's unique eyes that granted him his powers, including foreign DNA he had implanted in his forehead. But I could do nothing with them. The Sea Devil, Mizuryōshu, had reformed from the combined effect of every single Devil Fruit leaving their users' bodies at once. He was still weakened and wanted no part in a dying world. And so, he offered two things. Firstly, he would take the powers I had stolen from my foe and transform them into an unparalleled power that I could not wield but would bestow upon a chosen warrior. Second, he would destroy the world with the remaining two occupants upon my defeat, which I had made clear was imminent. And so, the events occurred, and I assume the universe is now obliterated." He gestured to Dellingr, who was beginning to work through what was being said. "You seem to almost have it work out, so you probably know what comes next. I happened upon you during your battle and bestowed you with this power, saving your life and enhancing your capabilities. I then divided the remaining power between transporting us to this realm and taking up residence in your mind." He glanced down at his body sadly, causing Dellingr to do the same.

"Your body…" realized the large man, standing from his previous perch to draw closer to the storyteller to inspect his figure. Sumaisu was now see-through, slowly dissipating as his power continued to wane. Dellingr snapped his gaze up to meet Sumaisu's. "You have gone to great lengths to atone for your wrongdoings, and I am thankful for that. But I assume there is a reason you chose me and wanted to speak to me." Sumaisu gave a curt nod, producing a small hand mirror and holding it in front of the younger man's face.

"You have already seen your powers, but you do not understand them," he warned. "It evolves with the user. As you gain mastery over it, you will unlock its full potential. And its full potential is truly magnificent. It is called the Hoshigan because of its universal power and the form it takes. The star you see will slowly change, gaining a point with each power mastered. Right now, you are in the stage where you may choose which power, to begin with. There are three stages before the final stage and each one bestows you with a new power upon its inception. When mastered, another power will be awakened along with the newest stage, increasing the time of mastery before moving on. The first stage, often referred to as the Ichijigan, accesses the Sharingan. The primary ability is what you have already experienced: immediate assessment of a foe's technique and how you can utilize it in combat." Dellingr nodded, grinning in memory of the shock on Burgess's face when he used his own move against him. Sumaisu held up a warning finger as he continued. "However, if the technique is too powerful for your body to handle, it may have drawbacks if used for extended lengths of time, understood?" His temporary pupil nodded, causing the spirit to grin widely. However, it was quickly replaced by a frown as the room shook.

"What's happening?!" Dellingr cried, clinging to his seat as a lifeline. Paint began was flaking off the walls, the ceiling began to disintegrate, and the floor cracked ominously. A glowing yellow eye stared down at the young man through the holes in the ceiling, contracting at the sight of its apparent prey. Dellingr turned to a grim Sumaisu, gesturing to the shining orb. "What is that thing?!" The interloper huffed, holding his hand out to the side as a long rapier manifested in his hand. He lowered into a stance, his form suddenly solidifying once more.

"It seems our time has been cut short, Dellingr!" he announced, dodging to the side as a flaming skeletal fist slammed into the spot where he previously stood. "Your power is beginning to overflow, attempting to overtake you. I will hold it back, but that will close off this portion of your mind with me inside. Good luck out there, and make sure to remember what we spoke of today!" With his final instructions given, Sumaisu launched himself at the fist with a fierce war cry, disappearing from view as he dashed up the ethereal limb towards the target. Dellingr remained frozen for several seconds, faintly cognizant of the sounds of fierce fighting outside the rapidly fading room. Regaining his wits, he sped for the door, wrenching it open and throwing himself through it. He collapsed into the void of his mind as the door slammed shut behind him. Leaping to his feet, he watched in defeat as chains wound around the oak portal, clamping it shut with a steel padlock. He scratched the side of his head irritably, glancing around the emptiness that surrounded him.

"This day…I can't even put into words how insane it is," he groaned, eyes constantly flitting back to the barred entrance to Sumaisu and whatever he was fending off. A sudden realization caused Dellingr to exclaim in frustration. "He never even told me how to get out! I'm stuck here!" He froze as the creak of hinges sounded from below him, following by a loss of solid ground for his feet to stand on. "I just had to sAY IIIIIIIIIIT!" He reached out futilely as he was swallowed up by darkness, the impromptu trapdoor closing behind him.

~0~

Dellingr's eyes flew open, greeted by the glorious (at least to him, it was) sight of blue skies, puffy clouds, and…a chullo-wearing duck? "Hey, buddy," greeted the groggy man. "Mind scooching to the right just a tad? You're blocking my awesome view." With a polite squawk, the goggle-toting fowl moved over, eliciting a satisfied sigh from the prone Dellingr. "Thanks, pal. Out of curiosity, what's a fabulously feathered fellow like you doing out here all alone?" A series of quacks followed, dashing Dellingr's hopes. "Bummer. I thought you would be able to talk…oh well. I need to get moving anyway." He sat up with a groan, clenching his eyes in pain. His head felt like a contingent of kangaroos had decided to have a free-for-all inside his skull. He pushed it to the side as he opened his eyes to take stock of his surroundings. He seemed to still be in the hills outside of Whiskey Peak, meaning he couldn't have been asleep for an extended period. He stretched out his limbs before rising to his feet. He nearly stumbled into the water but was caught by the duck, who squawked at him irritably. Before Dellingr could make another comment on his inability to understand the indignant fowl, a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Karoo is basically a mother hen, so expect him to be fussing over you for the next few days until you are fully healed," warned Ms. Wednesday, giggling from her perch beside Dellingr. Her eyes roamed over his new wounds that were atop his old wounds. "You should not have beaten those pirates with the state you are in. From what I understand, they are quite the notorious bunch. They came from farther on in the Grand Line to bolster their ranks and attack weaker crews and islands." Dellingr hummed in response, agreeing with the girl's reasoning. He thanked Karoo before slowly rising to his full height, wincing at the sharp pains that lanced through his body. He glanced over to his companion, nodding toward the water.

"Did they leave yet, or are they hanging around?" he queried, getting a shrug from the girl in response. Dellingr huffed at the lack of information before beginning his long, painful trek to Whiskey Peak. Karoo waddled on his left while Ms. Wednesday chatted on his right, eventually choosing to ride Karoo instead. Dellingr shook his head at the sight of a person riding a duck but resigned himself to slowly becoming used to such odd sightings.

They reached the outskirts of town by dusk. Dellingr's wounds had begun to scab over, moving from stabbing convulsions to dull aches. His feet were worse off, however, due to his lack of coverings and the surprisingly rocky composition of the mountains of Cactus Island. Blisters, cuts, and bits of sediment littered his exposed feet. After finally reaching the cobbled streets of the bounty hunter town, Dellingr collapsed to the ground to deal with the odd bits and pieces that were jammed into his soles. Ms. Wednesday gaped at the sight as Karoo rushed off, most likely to grab the resident doctor.

"What were you thinking, idiot?!" roared the horrified woman, slamming her fist into the man's head. Dellingr cried out in pain, abandoning his task to massage the lump that was beginning to form. He stiffened as soft fingers began caressing and cleaning his mauled dogs. "You should have let me know. Karoo would have been more than happy to give you a ride while I walked." She continued to berate the wincing Delllingr, who merely took it all in without a word. Sometime during her rant, Karoo showed up with a dwarfish man in-saddle. The man barely crested four feet, had a stocky build, and a curly, black beard that draped over his round stomach. A black eyepatch covered his right eye, wound tightly around his smooth, round head.

"Lass, I'll take it from here," commanded the tiny doctor in a smooth voice. Ms. Wednesday nodded obediently before shuffling back. Dellingr kept his eyes trained on the odd man as beady black eyes roved over his abused body. With a snort of amusement, the physician locked gazes with his patient. "Sonny, ye should be dead by all accounts. If some of these wounds were even a few centimeters off, I wouldn't be talking to ye right now." He motioned to Karoo, who quickly deposited a large medical bag into the bearded man's weather mitt. "But, the damage will heal, and I'll help ye along. And ye can always count on the word of Doctor Fraser!" Dellingr nodded hesitantly as the now-named Fraser began to work on his wounds. His attention was quickly recaptured by a much calmer, but still irritated, Ms. Wednesday. She had been joined by Mr. 8, Mr. 9, and Ms. Monday during the doctor's assessment.

"Tell us what happened with the Blackbeard Pirates," she demanded, causing Dellingr to sigh tiredly. He then regaled them with the fights between him and Doc Q, Stronger, Jesus Burgess, and the trickery with Blackbeard himself. He made sure to leave out the information about his eyes, explaining his copying ability as hyperawareness or some such ability. After his account, all four executives were shocked at his tenacity and willpower. Mr. 8 smiled widely as he bowed low, quickly mimicked by his companions.

"Many thanks, Mr. Dellingr!" he praised, rising slowly from his lowered position. "You have saved us all from certain disaster at the hands of these ruffians. If you so wee–ahem, ma, ma, MAAA! If you so wish, you may join our little operation for as long as you like." The other three smiled widely at Dellingr, encouraging him to accept. The outsider closed his eyes, mulling over the decision. _'Sumaisu said that Screaver was left in a dimension by Madara…there has to be a way to free him. The secrets are most likely further along in the Grand Line. Which means my best bet is to hitch a ride on a pirate ship. And what better crew than the Straw Hat Pirates? They should be arriving at some point since the Blackbeard Pirates just passed through.'_ With his plan set, Dellingr smiled back and nodded affirmatively, causing a great cheer to erupt from behind the four leaders. Mr. 8 smiled widely, turning to Ms. Monday. "Wire the base and inform them that we have found a replacement for Mr. 6, and to send Ms. Mother's Day." The brawny woman nodded before running off towards the town hall. Mr. 8 strode forward, grabbing Dellingr's arm gently and raising it up high. "Let us all welcome the newly-instated Mr. 6, the savior of Whiskey Peak!" A second cheer, greater than the first, resounded through the town, bringing a wild grin to Dellingr's face. He couldn't wait to see what adventures would come his way.

* * *

 **Looks like our boy is a hero. And to anyone who contends that Blackbeard did not stop at Whiskey Peak on his first time through, that is because there was nobody strong there. Because of Dellingr's unique and powerful presence, Teach decided to investigate with force. That is the explanation and a darn good one in my opinion.**

 **Also, we may be getting a new beta reader soon, so the quality of my stories will increase! If you want to sample their work, look up _Forlorn_ and _Harbinger_ under the Naruto heading. Read _Forlorn_ first for the context, but the writer is _Harbinger's_ author, so make sure to read that one as well if you are interested. It is a great story, even if it is a bit lengthy. I am currently working through it again to remind myself of the plot and have loved the depth of story and character development. Such an inspiration!**

 **With all that said, that's all, folks. Until next time...**

 **Keep. It. Zesty.**

 **-SZ**


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